Two quarters a god
by stabatmater
Summary: What exactly is the child of two demigods? Percy and Annabeth are about to find out.


**My first ****one-shot. Maybe it's too long. It came to me after watching the film and reading the last book on the same day. So…blame that overdose on Percy Jackson if it sucks. ;D

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Hey, guys.

My name is Bianca Jackson, I'm thirteen and I live in NY. I have black hair and grey eyes. My parents are Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase Jackson (her last names give you a good idea about her favourite hobby, especially when she's angry). I like swimming and climbing, animals and – don't tell my parents – picking a little fight if people really get on my nerves.

Don't worry, I won't bother you long. I just want to tell you about the event which changed my life. So…it's a cloudy afternoon, only two days to the summer holidays:

Mum and I were arguing. She couldn't understand my point, the genius. Bad luck for her – I'd had history and maths today, so I knew what I was talking about.

"Look, Annabeth" (I've started calling her Annabeth since she became my best friend rather than my mother) "if there are a god and a mortal and they have a child, it's a half-god."

"Right so far", she said but she looked as if I'd made her eat a lemon.

"And if there are two half-gods and _they_ have a child, this child is a half-god too!"

"No, dear, you're mistaken –"

"I'm not! It's like having one mortal parent and one god parent. Like, you see", I got paper and a pencil to show her. "a means mortal, b means god:"

(½a + ½b)*2 = a + b

(a + b):2 = ½a + ½b

"Equals half god, half human." (Smart arithmetic, huh?)

"Mortal", Mum corrected me. "But Bianca, you can't explain ancestry or – or genetics with _maths_."

"Fine", I snapped and left the living-room. The posters on my wall weren't exactly smart enough to discuss with me, but at least they didn't disagree all the time. And there were no buildings by Frank Lloyd Wright (Mum) or paintings of the sea (Dad) on them. It's strange how people can be obsessed with certain topics.

No, except for one really cool drawing my walls were plastered with animals. Mostly owls and fish, but also other rather strange animals like Tasmanian devils, or Asiatic black bears, or Green Mambas. I'm planning to join Greenpeace some day.

The painting I told you about was one a friend of my parents gave to me. She had drawn my mum and dad on top of the Empire State Building, both with dangerous expressions on their faces and swords in their hands. Tell you, it looks alarmingly realistic. The drawing was signed Auntie Rachel, OOD. Auntie Rachel – yeah, I used to call her that when I was five. Don't ask me what OOD is supposed to mean. I'd love to know, but haven't seen her for a couple of years. Only another strange event in my life. Don't mention staying under water for nearly half an hour, exactly knowing how a house was built, and all the weird people I've already met, like my uncle Tyson, who always wears a scarf tied around his head (he pretends to be blind, but I'm dead sure he doesn't want me to know he has only one eye); or Clarisse, another, uh, acquaintance of my parents, who looks very much like a boy and has, dunno, a hundred scars on her face and arms. Hey, don't laugh. That's my world, folks.

**(Imagine a ring girl here who holds up a sign saying "****Two days later: Beginning of the summer holidays")**

"So, Bianca", my dad sounded stern, which was new for me, "your mother has told me that you got a "poor" in English?"

I snorted. "'Your mother has told me'. You should hear yourself, you sound ridiculous. And you!" I spun around and scowled at Mum. "Is he the school psychologist or what? I told you, that's my dyslexia!"

"Dyslexia?" Dad sounded even sterner. "You have dyslexia?"

"Was diagnosed with it last week."

They shared a glance. "That's bad." Dad rubbed his forehead, Mum bit her lip. They are cute when they have these silent conversations…IF IT'S NOT ABOUT ME.

I was really angry. "Yeah, it's fucking bad! Now would you talk to me, please? _HELLO, I NEARLY FAILED!_" Whoa, my voice must've been audible three blocks further.

"Bianca, shut up and sit down." My dad was now angry, too. His green eyes glared at me. "Listen to us, this is important."

"I _am_ listening. My eyes may suck, but I have ears like an owl." Mum winced. I took a deep breath and sat down. "What?"

"So…you have dyslexia and ADHD. And you say Tyson has only one eye. – Annabeth, it's obvious."

"It can't be! That's impossible!" Mum was upset, there was something like fear in her eyes – grey, like mine. I got impatient._ You owe me an explanation._ I jumped up. (ADHD, remember? I can't sit still.) "What's going on here? With my dyslexia and Tyson? Explain that. That – and Perseus, why the hell does your pen turn into a sword?"

My father got up so fast I hardly noticed it. He'd never reacted like that before when I called him Perseus. "_You touched Ri – my pen?_"

I took a step back. He was _really_ scary. His hair – the spiky black hair I'd inherited from him – stood on end. What had I done to him?

"Hell, I was looking for a pen everywhere – I lost my own one, and I mustn't touch Annabeth's _holy _desk, so I thought, why not look in your room? Voilà, I found a pen. And when I clicked it, it turned into a sword."

Dad groaned. "You shouldn't have done that. Ask me before. – Well, it's too late, anyway." He sighed worriedly.

"Yeah, I think you should explain me that. And what, for Ares' sake, is that?" I pointed to the window, irritated. Something like a huge, unusually ugly bird was flying straight towards our balcony. My parents gasped. Mum unsheathed the bronze knife which had been lying on the mantelpiece (I'd thought it was only decoration!). Dad grabbed my shoulder. "Where did you put the pen?"

I stared at him in disbelief. Slowly, I pulled the holy writing utensil out of my pocket. Dad snatched it from my palm and clicked it. The pen turned into a sword. The bird landed on our balcony and knocked at the door. Except – it was no bird.

My parents exchanged another glance; then my mother opened the door and stepped back.

"Alecto!" my father exclaimed. I went pale. He knew that – that _thing_? What was it, anyway? It looked fairly scary, and _really_ odd. I can't describe it.

"Perrrrcy Jackson", Alecto croaked. "And Annabeth Chase. And this must be little Bianca. Dear, dear, you've grrrown."

"What do you want?"

"Well, my master allowed Zeus to borrrrrow me. I'm here to tell you this: Your daughter has to go to the Camp."

Mum shook her head furiously. "She isn't even one!"

"Oh yes, she is." The creature looked at me with its small, age-old eyes. Suddenly that stupid sum came to my mind again, and I whispered: "_A half a plus a half b in brackets multiplied by two equals a plus b; a plus b in brackets divided by two equals a half a plus a half b._"

The creature laughed. "More like a half a plus a half p."

"Then it's true?" Mum sounded desperate. She was surrendering.

"Yeah. And you know Zeus: if she doesn't go…" Alecto's voice became deeper and hoarser. "There shall be war."

The creature nodded contentedly and flew away. Dad slammed the balcony door so hard a small crack appeared in the glass pane. Then he turned towards me.

I must've looked horrible, all pale, jelly legs, sheer horror in my face and stuff. Whatever, Mum and Dad caught me before I hit the floor. They put me on the sofa and sat beside me. When I'd found my voice back, I asked (and winced 'cause my voice sounded pretty much like Alecto's): "What was that?"

Smart question.

"A fury", my mum said.

"Eh?" Even smarter question.

"She used to be my maths teacher and the lawyer for your namesake and her brother…" Dad gave me a crooked smile.

Mum scowled at him. "You're _so_ not making this easier."

"Hey, that's my line", he said and kissed her quickly. I looked away. Let them have a short private moment, you know. Mum took my hand. "Bianca, don't care about how crazy it sounds, just believe it. OK?"

I grumbled and nodded.

"You've heard about the Greek gods?"

That was even smarter than my questions. I rolled my eyes. "Hey, other children grew up with Snow White and Sleeping Beauty. I grew up with Demeter and Dionysus."

"Right…"

"Annabeth, just go on!"

"Well, they are real. And we, I mean, your father and I, we're demigods."

"Sure."

They looked at me without jumping up and cheering, _Haha, April fool! _I began to realise they might be serious.

"Wait. You mean…the stories about the gods falling in love with mortals are true?"

My dad grinned at me. "Now, first question. Which of your grandparents are your biological grandparents?"

"Your mother", I answered. Well duh. No offence, but Grandpa _Paul_? No way.

"Yay! Fifty points for Bianca! And the other one?"

That was harder. I looked at my mother. Well, here we go, have a guess. "Your father?"

Mum nodded with a grin. Incredible, I'd never have thought that; but her mother (stepmother, obviously) was even more…normal. If you understand "normal" as "less the type of person who falls in love with a believed-to-be-a-myth Greek god and starts an affair with him/her".

"Soooo…another hundred points if you find out your divine grandparents. Mark Alecto's words."

"_More like a half a plus a half p_", I remembered. "A and P. Uh…Ares and Persephone? – All right, all right, don't freak out!" Now it was their turn to look horrified.

"Clarisse is a child of Ares", Dad explained. "Not us."

"A…Aphrodite…no. Artemis…virgin. Athena!"

Mum smiled and squeezed my hand.

"And Poseidon." Another hundred points. Whoa.

That was wicked!

"Hm. And obviously, you're a demigod, too. So we'll have to send you to Camp Half-Blood." Dad seemed to quite like the idea now. "You know, this is a totally new situation. Demigods are either too strange to find someone to have children with or they marry, uh, 100%-humans, or…"

"Or they die before getting the chance of having children", Mum interrupted him dryly. "We weren't quite sure about you, but now…well, you heard the fury."

"If I don't go to that camp, there shall be war."

"Yeah, well, that's Zeus."

* * *

Here I am at the airport. Mum and Dad have organised a cab. "Stoll Air Taxi".

"Be careful, that's the naked truth", Dad says, handing me my bag. "Travis and Connor Stoll are children of Hermes." Mum has finally found some drachmae. "There it is. Oh, gods, I hope they've managed the Mist…" The cab has wings instead of side mirrors. Very small wings indeed. I turn to my parents.

"Good luck, my darling", Mum says, giving me the money for the drive. "Send us some Iris messages." We hug, and I can feel the bronze knife through her blouse. Then it's Dad's turn. "Have fun, dear. And say hello to Auntie Rachel."

"Auntie Rachel?" They push me in the cab, waving at the driver (some cousin of theirs, as he's a demigod, too). I'm already in the air, but I can still hear Dad's voice: "OOD stands for Oracle of Delphi!"

Oh my.

But hey, that's my life…from now on.


End file.
